


Such Good Friends, Such Greater Benefits

by prettyoddmoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Choking, Classroom Sex, Detention, Dungeons, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hogwarts, POC James Potter, POC James because I said so!, Potions, Potions Class (Harry Potter), Potions Classroom, Rough Sex, Top James Potter, detention sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyoddmoon/pseuds/prettyoddmoon
Summary: Having won over the valuable opportunity to spend a jolly bit of one-on-one time in the Potions classroom with his newfound friend with benefits, James Potter wastes no time to put it to some splendid use.
Relationships: James Potter & Reader, James Potter/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	Such Good Friends, Such Greater Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> hello-hello, it is i again... with a short but scrumptious james smut :) i love him to no end, and not to write about him would be a crime. have fun! & if you really want to get in the mood, i advise you to listen to the playlist i have put together based on him: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3RZgjh37jT80bwmSlk2i2a?si=deEq1KMUQY2kry-yy73WiA

“ _Mister Potter!_ ” exclaimed Professor Slughorn, having just strangled an eruption of ruby red with a forced flick of his wand. The thickish substance originating from an ironclad cauldron spluttered everywhere in result – on the multiples sets of desktops, on the floor, ceiling, walls, and, of course, Slughorn's very own striped silk suit – to the delight of two extraordinarily entertained students. Although the teacher never struck one as an easily provoked or hotheaded individual, he had certainly been walking on his last legs of patience with James Potter... and, not to forget, his not any less spirited accomplice and proclaimed fuckbuddy of a few months, [Y/N] [Y/LN] (though the latter part only the two of them were aware of).

“I can surely fathom Mister Potter indulging in such kind of activity, but _you,_ Miss [Y/LN], I am simply awestruck! Awestruck indeed!” He spat, face flaring up as though a beach ball and reddening to match the sticky substance on his robes. “Detention in the evening, videlicet both of you! Additionally, do stay after this lesson and be kind enough as to at least tidy up this – _scandalous_ – debris you've caused! Merlin – I cannot believe my eyes!” Toddling away just like a sulky toddler, Slughorn was heard mumbling something between the lines of _Slug Club's finest, No shame these days,_ and _Textile cleaning again_ to himself.

James and [Y/N], on the other hand, struggled to contain their laughter. The detention was worth the fun – they had completely disregarded and abandoned the instructions they were given at the beginning of the lesson, instead simply messing around and adding whatever in ridiculous and inexplicable amounts to their shared cauldron. It ended in, well... the whole ordeal becoming a simmering, bubbling substance of eye-catching maroon that somehow even looked delicious, but would probably grow you a second pair of ears or make you see upside down had you indulged in a draught. The pair didn't dare to perform a taste test, but the entity was certainly fun to toy around with. Until Slughorn noticed, that was.

The bell rang mere minutes after the outburst, leaving the remaining students to pack up their belongings and gradually fill out of the Dungeons classroom. Sirius was very persistent on staying, even voicing his desire to Slughorn, but...

“Do not even think about it, Mister Black!” he barked in response, the spot of plum liquid on his forehead making him look as though he'd been punched. James would definitely sink a stamp handle into the splotch to find out if it'd work as a wax seal. “Now, off you go!”

The bespectacled Gryffindor grinned to himself in secret, absent-mindedly stroking the desktop with the palm of his hand. Being left one on one with the person he fucked for fun with no strings attached didn't specifically call for the presence of his best friend – only in some kind of polyamorous fantasy, that is. Maybe it wasn't half bad that Sirius couldn't stay, after all, Potions was the last period on Friday, and the opportunity played into their hands almost too conveniently...

“ _Shit!_ ” he hissed, having drawn his fingers through a stain of maroon potion hybrid on accident. Throwing a glance at his hand, already anticipating the worst – his skin having turned green or the substance having etched right through his flesh – he found his palm in its previous, perfectly fine state. Still of a subtle coffee shade, all five fingers still intact, still his palm. Just with a little splotch of plum on it; though it uncannily resembled a birth mark, James registered. Looking to the side, he promptly wiped it off on his jeans, acting as though nothing had happened since [Y/N] was too busy fiddling with her tiny metal scale to notice.

“Well,” announced Slughorn, raising from his seat. With his eyebrows furrowed and features ancient yet child-like all at the same time, he resembled an unsatisfied, oversized toddler mere seconds short of throwing a tantrum. James toyed with the idea of asking who had stolen little Horace's lollipop. “I have a matter to attend to–” _yes,_ lunch, “–and thus shall leave you to it. If the classroom isn't spotless upon my return, your detentions shall pile up even higher, just like your misbehaviour throughout this semester.” The teacher looked quite moronic, scolding them with a blot on his forehead as though someone had shot a red grape at him with a slingshot and it had burst right across his front. James bit the insides of his cheeks so as not to burst out in laughter, crossed arms tightening around his body, but failed to suppress his signature cheeky grin. Slughorn paid few attention to it, rambling on, “Seriously, Miss [Y/LN], I could never expect demeanour of this kind from you. Mister Potter here might be rubbing off on you, but I, surely, am in no place to make such remarks. Goodbye, and do not even think of carrying out anything greater than your outrageous performance; I already find myself disappointed to no end.” He proceeded to trudge out of the classroom, expression sour, and, having squeezed through the doorframe, began waddling upstairs, to, most probably, his office. After all, he was bound to clean up a little before attending the feast. The heavy spruce door swung shut behind him, round cast iron handle colliding with the dark wood in a loud clank.

Oh, James had rubbed off on [Y/N] quite all-fucking-right – _that_ Slughorn could be sure of.

At once, the pair turned to one another, eyebrows raised and mirroring each other's triumphant expressions. As soon as Slughorn's heavy footsteps had faded, the two erupted in heartfelt laughter. It was too good not to.

“That was brilliant,” James drew breath in between guffaws, “bloody brilliant.”

It didn't take long for the pair to recover from their hysteria, and, soon enough, the laughter died down completely. They panted slightly, something tugging at [Y/N]'s heart; she might've had indulged in a fit too harsh for her body to handle, but with James Potter by her side, that had drifted into routine.

She shot a look at their shared cauldron, splotchy and sad, sitting atop the table. “I'm so tempted to take some of this rubbish along and see what it actually does... given it does anything at all.” While she was delighting in her narrative, more a soliloquy than anything else, James had scooted closer to her and snaked his arm around her waist. The young witch paid few mind to the fact, instead continuing, “I mean, what if we've invented something groundbreaking? Like a blessing in disguise of some sort, what do you think?”

Towering over her, he beamed down at the girl. She directed her gaze back at him, staring back into eyes of alluring hazel. Mischief burned beyond them – as it always did – but this time, that very mischief had assumed an undertone of... rather inquisitive darkness.

Potter caressed the girl's cheek with his knuckles, the initial skin-on-skin contact setting [Y/N]'s face ablaze. She blushed. Hard. “ _I_ think,” he began, drinking in the beauty of her flushed cheeks, “it doesn't matter whatever the hell it is, main part being we had fun creating it. And we did, didn't we?”

[Y/N] agreed, “You're right.” Getting on her tiptoes, she connected their lips. In response, James craned his head down, tilting it in the process, therefore deepening the kiss. Now that both of his muscular arms had been wrapped around the girl's waist, he pulled her closer, and she grasped his shoulders for support. His tongue swirled over her bottom lip, and as the Gryffindor lightly squeezed the girl's buttcheek, she gasped against his mouth, and he used the provided opportunity to introduce his tongue. While he used it to explore her mouth as though it were his first time, he promptly turned himself and the girl's delicate frame around, taking a daring step forward and thus pressing the girl against the workbench. His palms slid south, gently fondling the girl's butt on their way there, and settled atop the backs of her thighs.

“ _Up,_ ” he murmured into the kiss. No further instruction was needed, and, in no time, the young witch leapt into James' arms as he supported her. Having wrapped her legs around his body, [Y/N] allowed herself to be sat atop the desk. The Gryffindor's hands protectively settled upon the table next to either of the girl's hips, and she consequently pulled him closer with her legs, arms crossing behind his neck. One of her hands tangled in his brown, messy waves, lightly tugging at and tousling them. James moaned into the kiss – [Y/N] was all too well aware of _just_ how much he liked having his hair pulled like that; it never failed to wind him up even more than he was already. Having made the decision to repay her for that pleasant gambit, James' lips formed a trail of light kisses all the way down to the girl's neck, where he kissed, nibbled, and sucked on the peachy skin. In response, [Y/N] was forced to throw her head back in ecstasy, arching her spine and thus colliding with her partner's torso.

The girl's arms loosened around his neck, and she placed them back onto his shoulders, where they slid down and settled atop James' quivering chest. Smirking, she gently pushed him away with a hint of playfulness. He gazed into her eyes, confused and lost as though a stray puppydog, with his lips kiss-bruised and still glistening.

“ _Huh?_ ”

As though it weren't obvious, the girl inquired, nibbling on her lips as they prickled and ached with a certain desire to reclaim James' once more. “What're you up to?”

_Oh, what do you think?_

Potter indulged in a subtle comical eye-roll, retorting, “Wouldn't it be such a statement if we fucked right here?” In perfect James Potter fashion, he followed the inquiry up with smirking one of his condescending, hyperarrogant smirks. By then, the pair of them had fucked all over the castle and its premises, including places such as the library, multiple bathrooms, broom closets, and the Quidditch changing room, but the Potions classroom they considered alien territory – _for now_. With his eyebrow raised in a suggestive manner, Potter vigilantly bit down on his lip, too well aware of what to say in order to make his partner in crime agree with each and every word he'd say.

The young witch fiddled with the collar of his button-up absently – something within the realms of frustration and desperation pooled in the pit of her stomach – and responded, “Aren't we in enough trouble already?” She proceeded to press James closer to her using her legs, which contradicted the dismissiveness of her previous statement completely. The Gryffindor's sultry body heat radiated off of his frame that was, as usual, lightly draped in cologne, and the more she breathed and drank him in, the more she grew to want him. Her muscles vibrated with enticement, and she caught herself realising _just_ how right he was. _It very fucking well would be one hell of a statement._

“No such thing as _enough trouble_ in _my_ book, kitty cat,” leered the boy. He tilted his head to the side, some of his unkempt curls unwillingly folding onto themselves in the process, and slid his fingers into the signature crimson-and-gold tie around his neck, tugging the loop wider. “Let me take you right here – all things considered, we're in enough trouble already.”

He was right, of course he was. It didn't take [Y/N] long to toy around with the possibilities in her head – the two of them had been left alone in a remote classroom for Merlin knows how long (Slughorn bore the habit to take his sweet time during dinner) – and make a swift decision. By the time her verdict had fallen, James had already been kissing her neck with a certain viciousness that prompted even if she attempted to push him away in any possible way, it wouldn't work in the slightest. Slanting her head to the side, a frisky smirk emphasised the inquisitive mischief hidden in her mien.

“You're _so_ persuasive,” she mewled, limbs quivering as a reaction to James' ardent lips fluttering against the delicate skin of her neck. In no time, she felt them form a smirk against it, and Potter consecutively switched to mumbling in between kisses, “It's my libido.” His tone had darkened significantly, as though a sudden 180-degree character shift.

[Y/N] issued a mere chortle, fiddling with the striped tie loosely draped around Potter's neck. Absent-mindedly and with her gaze focused upon the cabinet stacked with potion ingredients from top to bottom in the very back of the classroom, she added, “ _And_ your cock.” That was when James detached his lips from hers and lifted his head in order to present the girl with a haughty smirk.

“That too,” he pressed out slyly. Merlin, the arrogance in that boy. Someone had clearly overdone with the salt shaker of smugness when James Potter was planted into existence. The young witch took it upon herself to admire her counterpart's flawless face of tender walnut brown, his young and stunning features, angular jaw, plump lips, and the signature half-frame glasses sitting upon his nose. _Right!_ Glasses.

Reaching out, she took hold of the cool metal and slid the glasses off of James' strong nose bridge. In response, he wildly shook his head, castaneous locks flying all over the place, wafting a vivid mixture of scents – men's shampoo, rainy Quidditch pitch, trouble – over to the girl. Breathing in with her whole chest, she tried her best to inhale as much of it as she could – that smell, so unique, so irresistible, had James Fleamont _fucking_ Potter written all over it, left, right, and centre. With all she had to offer, [Y/N] wished that scent would settle in her lungs forevermore – within reach if needed, eternally preserved to delight in at any given moment. She wondered if there was a spell for something akin to that.

James plateaued between her legs, his palms landing atop her thighs. He began rubbing them, fingertips spreading spiky yet pleasant prurience all throughout the young witch's body. At once, he snuck them beneath her skirt, and a bat of an eye later, they would be gone again, and the more often he repeated that routine, the closer he got to her sweltering core every time. A flower of arousal blossomed in [Y/N]'s crotch, and she was forced to issue a sigh and flex her lower body muscles in order to ease the tension that had all of the sudden overtaken her body and mixed with the blood coursing through her veins. James noticed.

“Don't resist it, baby,” he muttered, voice deep and demanding. Potter found himself experiencing an obscene rush of lust of his own, a vulgar storm if you will, as he grew harder and harder within his jeans. He thus allowed his head to cock backwards, taking a deep breath and tightening his grip on [Y/N]'s thighs. The tingly, overwhelming sensation was certainly amongst his most favourite feelings in the world, and he proceeded to take his own advice, simply easing into its charms. “Fuckin' hell; bloody thing's about to rip my sodding trousers.”

Delighting in a borderline taunting chuckle, the Gryffindor's counterpart closed her fingers around his belt, by which she pulled him closer and proceeded to start fiddling with it so as to pry it loose. While she was busy with that task, James clasped his big, strong hand around her slender throat, leading her in to kiss him once more. Kissing James had always felt as though he were trying to devour you whole – his mouth moved in wide, eager ellipses, as his tongue swept back and forth across your lips, your palate, and, not to forget, your own tongue. This profound hunger of his practically mirrored the rowdiness raging within him; James never failed to make it entirely obvious _just_ how lascivious he had gotten.

The young witch struggled to breathe as he squeezed her throat harsher, digits still fiddling with the accessory that oh-so-reliably made sure his trousers remained stuck to his pelvis at all times. Yet now, she wanted them off, and preferably as soon as possible. The girl couldn't lie – she had grown rather impatient herself. Soon enough, the belt had given up, and she yanked it straight out of its loops in that clouded state of agitation. Potter proceeded to part their lips, his palm sliding south and tangling in the loop of the girl's tie, tearing it off her neck in one confident pull. It landed on the drab floor of the classroom, and the next thing she knew was that both of Potter's hefty hands had been undoing the buttons of her ivory blouse. The Gryffindor had learned to be rather skilled at that, as opposed to their first handful of encounters, when he'd simply rip the item of clothing in two without even attempting the peaceful approach. He'd stopped right below her exposed chest held up in a rather vibrant, lavender bra, and paused as to admire the ornate lace... or rather the full breasts it shrouded. Right there, sitting upon the left one in all its burgundy glory, he noticed a fading lovebite from a few days ago. Memories of the past encounter intruded his mind, and he was forced to capture his bottom lip in between his teeth as obscene desire tugged at his lower stomach.

“Potter, collect the drool before it drips all over my tits,” joked his counterpart, desperately holding onto the edges of the working desk. The Gryffindor had snapped out of it at once, diverting his gaze back unto the girl's eyes.

“Oh, _fuck off,_ ” he hissed in response, arrogant grin evident upon his acorn-brown face. Leaning in to her, their faces hovering mere inches apart and the pleasant heat emanating off of his scorching [Y/N]'s skin, he lowered his voice to a threatening whisper, “Didn't mind when I came all over them the other day, did you?”

The girl's cheeks and ears momentarily assumed a reddish tint, and as the crimson gained in vibrance, she watched her counterpart back away with his countenance gleaming in victory. Fair enough.

Slipping her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, the girl tugged at it with a certain sense of frustration, averting her eyes from the hazel pair fixated on her. The ongoing stirring within the pit of her stomach threatened to bleed into the realm of pain at any given moment, and thus, she requested, “Just get on with it.”

Potter placed his palms atop the young witch's thighs, making sure to apply just the slightest bit of pressure. He issued an indirect demand, “Maybe if you asked nicely.” Nibbling on his bottom lip that practically begged to meet the girl's skin another time, he cocked his eyebrows at her in an onerous manner.

“Arsehole,” she spat with a laugh leaving her lips afterward, allowing herself a brief eye-roll. Entering a friendship with James Potter, amongst other things, required perfect eye muscle strength – you'd be delighting in quite a bit of eye-rolling on the daily. Sighing, she surrendered to his charms, “Fuck me, _please_. I'm spiralling over here.”

A delicious surge of pleasure was sent right towards James' crotch as his dick helplessly twitched in his trousers, and he drank in the heat of the moment. “Not so hard, was it?” he nevertheless teased, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards with mischief diffusing his bloodstream. His nonchalant arrogance sent a shiver down [Y/N]'s spine that faded into a tingly sensation in her crotch, upon which she forced her thighs together so as to ease the tension. Her cheeks smouldered with that forlorn, flustered scarlet as James snuck his dominant hand beneath her skirt, caressing her core through the dampened underwear in careful, inquisitive circles.

“Fuckin' hell,” he muttered beneath his breath, “you sure are wet for the amount of fight you put up.” In response, he received a sole impatient exhalation, but that was reaction enough for him. Taking hold of the hem of his counterpart's panties, he carefully – _teasingly_ – slid them down her thighs and, eventually, legs, briefly crouching down in order to take them off completely. Before he arose back into the air, he made sure to graze the witch's bare leg with his palm, thus sending heaps of miniature flashes of lightning shooting up her skin and muscles, distributing bittersweet electricity throughout the entirety of her body. Finding himself on the same level as the heavily-breathing young witch before him once more, he crumpled the underwear up in his fist and proceeded to shove it in one of his pockets. What was the likelihood of [Y/N] receiving the item of clothing back anytime soon, you ask? Slim.

Having accomplished that, James' digits shifted to his zipper, and he worked it open in a blink of an eye. The button followed suit, and soon enough, his trousers had been slid a handful of inches down his hips and he found himself in the middle of pulling his fully-hardened cock out of his briefs.

Indulging in slow, lazy strokes, James laid his gaze on the girl seated before him. It took her a while to lock eyes with him, since she'd deemed it more important to gawk at his overwhelming, vein-outlined length. It wasn't like she'd never observed it before – on the contrary, she'd encountered the organ up close and _utmostly_ personal on numerous occasions, it was solely the inordinate lechery that had taken sway of her, misting up her mind and provoking her to gape at Potter's cock for as long as it took.

He could almost hear the young witch's mouth watering, waves of saliva whipping about behind the sealed lips in absolute turmoil. Issuing a smug laugh, Potter mocked, “I, unlike you, wouldn't mind if you drooled _all_ over my cock, whatsoever.” That's when the girl's eyes flickered up to meet the Gryffindor's, her countenance clad in thrilled agitation. She was a bat of an eye away from springing onto her knees before him and blowing him until he came down her throat over and over again, when he pressed on, “But we're running out of time, and in order to make you cum, we need to hurry up here.” Having said that, he took taut grip of the bottom of the girl's thighs, thus lifting her up and pulling her up against his own frame, their lower halves colliding somewhere around the edge of the desk. James' cock stood pressed against his clothed stomach, as [Y/N] observed, and before more thoughts about it could gather in her mind, her head was yanked up by her hair. “Eyes up here,” reminded Potter with a snide grin, glueing his ardent lips onto the girl's neck. Snaking her arms around his torso, she whimpered, body quivering all over due to the overwhelming sensation in her groin. Bucking her hips, she issued a loud, shaky sigh, just as James had sucked a neat hickey onto her smooth skin.

Trailing his way up her jawline, he drew his tongue across the delicate bone obscured by a layer of mellow flesh and settled upon planting a brief kiss onto her lips. She basked in the pleasure of his kisses, sighing, though longing for _more_. More of _him_ – preferably inside her. Having pulled away, James portrayed one of his cocky, pompous sneers. He, better than anyone else, was able to pick up on those hints at once, “Don't be so desperate, it almost makes me think you love me.”

His statement caught [Y/N] off-guard quite all right, with her breath balking in her throat and thickening to the size of a lump. Suddenly, she found it much harder to breathe than a handful of seconds prior.

James was onto her, the smug bastard.

Better conceal the fact. “Oh, you _wish_.”

In response, Potter solely raised an eyebrow, in a fashion that translated to _Sure thing, darling._ Thereupon, he grabbed the edge of her skirt, flicking it upwards. Raising his palm towards his mouth, [Y/N] watched his cheeks hollow out, and, in a matter of seconds, he had roughly spat into his hand, luring a mere chortle out of her as a reaction. James' eyes flickered up towards hers, and he tilted his head to the side as though an inquisitive dog. She took note of _just_ how much he resembled Sirius in that very moment.

“ _What?_ Wanna use this bloody potion – or whatever the fuck that is – you and I concocted? I don't wanna rip you in half, pup,” he stated casually, sneaking his hand downwards and wrapping it around his cock. Proceeding to gift himself a few strokes, he thus spread his saliva over the proximity of his shaft as to provide a tad more lubrication. At last, he brushed his thumb over his flushed, leaking head, and aligned it with the girl's pulsating entrance. Being the absolute motherfucking tease he was, he glided it against her folds, wallowing in the passionate way her breath hitched.

“ _James_ –”

“Say please.”

Rubbing her ankles against one another behind Potter's back, the girl exhaled with bittersweet frustration, the huff of wind coming out more fragile than anticipated. In utter disbelief, [Y/N] bucked her hips so as to push herself onto his length somehow, but as though he sensed it, as though he could see it coming, Potter took a confident step backward. “You heard me,” he repeated.

“ _Fuck_ – please, James, I fucking beg you,” whined the girl, surprised at her own desperation. Her brains had by then melted to rouge mush, and thus every single thing that tumbled down her lips could be considered raving. A crazed sort of frenzy, caused by the complete absence of any ability to think straight.

“That's a good girl,” he praised, sliding in at a gradual pace as her walls coated him in their usual delicious warmth. Groaning at the initial feeling, James drifted all the way in, a pair of desperate arms crossing behind his neck as he did so. [Y/N]'s heart beat against his chest as though trying to tattoo a pattern onto his torso, and at once, he began catching up more and more speed, thrusting into the very object of his utmost affection at an accelerating pace. She shrieked at his sudden, harsh movements, those sounds gradually fading into mellow moans as he pounded into her with a borderline feral tinge. “ _Merlin_ ,” Potter rasped, eyes squeezing shut at the overwhelming sensations circulating his body and _especially_ the pit of his stomach. “Fuckin' hell.”

James tended to be rather vocal during sex, and _oh,_ how [Y/N] fucking adored the fact. His hoarse voice flowed as though elegant yarn weaving a lewd melody consisting of growls, pants, and profound swearing. Sometimes, he'd even outweigh the girl in terms of volume, and she'd get engulfed in the vortex of his low intonation, which enhanced the way he made her feel by a couple thousand notches. James Potter was irresistible – in all various kinds of interpretations and contexts, but mainly in the vulgar department.

With one of his ample hands clamped around the girl's hip, he made sure to keep her steady via suspending her leg in the air by the pit of her knee, thus providing himself aid to be able to thrust in and out of her with ease. The girl dragged out a soft, sonorous moan, and James took it upon himself to shake his head, castaneous curls bouncing in the fervid atmosphere of the Dungeons classroom as though in time-lapse. Having noticed the fact, [Y/N] dug her fingers in the wild, windswept mane, tousling and grasping onto the locks with all the strength there was to offer (which, frankly, wasn't much).

“Merlin, _baby,_ ” panted the Gryffindor, his forehead assuming an iridescent sheen from a thin layer of sweat that formed atop it. “You feel too fuckin' brilliant...” Yet he wasn't telling the whole truth, since, soon after he had spoken those filthy words into existence, he had raised the young witch's leg and lifted it unto his shoulder, firmly clenching it in place with his palm. _That,_ that was when things truly ventured into the realm of brilliance. This gambit unlocked a new angle, an angle at which he was able to pound into her even deeper than before. In response to that, she proceeded to issue one whine after another, beading a lustful succession of sounds that echoed across the classroom walls, along with obscene slaps and skin-to-skin noises their bodies generated as they collided with one another in a state of ultimate bliss.

The fashion James learned to fuck abutted the realms of animalistic, with those rough, almost punishing movements and coarse growls; the gritted teeth, the excessive sweating, the rowdy breathing – all contributed to the animality of his actions, and it was filthy, almost awfully vulgar, but seductive all the same.

Even the half-full cauldron perched upon the rough desktop in all peace began rocking about, and at that point, neither James nor [Y/N] cared if any of the unknown substance spilled out. James' hand didn't take any damage after making direct skin contact, did it, now? Besides, their full focus lay on grasping onto as much pleasure as they were capable of, and that, surely, didn't involve keeping an eye out for brewing utensils and their contents.

The girl's hand sprung free from Potter's hair, grasping onto the crimson-and-gold tie dangling off his neck, and she pulled, _hard,_ thus luring the boy in, and attacked his lips with such thirst that seemed impossible to quench, even with lips alike James'. With his senses overwhelmed, Potter gasped against his friend's mouth, panting as she pecked at his lips, trying to silence herself so as not to scream on the one hand and to do the same to James on the other.

Having collected himself again, Potter cocked his head to the side, deepening their kiss. Bringing his hand up from the girl's hip, he wrapped it around her throat, gripping and squeezing the sides. Thereupon, the young witch responded with a sharp wheeze, and James' lips travelled south, first sucking kisses onto the corner of her mouth, and, eventually, her jawline. Sinking his teeth into the delicate, fervid flesh, the Gryffindor elicited yet another outcry from his counterpart, and proceeded to thrust into her at a pace most familiar to him – overwhelmingly rough. It didn't take long for him to stumble upon her sweet spot, and since she had made it so _utmostly_ obvious for him he had done so with a wide selection of testy, eager whimpers varying in volume and length, he considered it a crime not delve into the convenience. Making use of the opportunity, he pounded her cunt as though it were their last time having intercourse, and as a meager tear rolled down the girl's sweltering cheek, she exclaimed, “ _Fuck!_ Keep going, James, right there!”

A growl escaped Potter's kiss-bruised lips, and he muttered, “Yeah, baby? Like _that?_ ” And proceeded to thrust even harder, strokes growing sloppier by the minute. The knot in the pit of his stomach threatened to come undone at any second, and for what it was worth, he intended to stretch the euphoria for as long as he could manage. Besides, the lady needed to come, too.

As though [Y/N] had performed Legilimency unto him and thus read Potter's mind, her hand slipped in between their bodies and attached to the sensitive bundle of nerves right above the hole James was pounding into, and rubbed, rubbed with all her might. Inundated by the vast pleasure that had overcome her, she was thus forced to crane her neck backwards, eliciting the Gryffindor's digits to bore into its tender skin even harder. She issued a rich moan at the sensation, her legs trembling due to a sudden surplus of tension, a feeling of powerful abundance tugging at her crotch. If James kept up his empyreal pace, she'd be coming around his cock in just a few seconds' time.

All the girl managed to bring out was a mellow _Close_ so as to inform James of her rather frantic state, but that had been more than obvious to him already, since her walls had begun pulsating around him as though her cunt had assumed a heartbeat of its own and the rasp in her whimpers grew to be more profound. Once again, he had been more familiar with her body than she could ever expect of him.

“I can tell,” he chortled in response, voice breathy nonetheless, and loose curls sticking to his glistening forehead as though by adhesive or one bloody good permanent sticking charm. “Come for me, baby. Wanna overstimulate you.” The profound deepness his voice had assumed was amongst the variety of reasons why a couple of thrusts later, [Y/N] was coming undone in his stout grip, with all sorts of whines and profanities rolling off her tongue as he led her through it and applied delicious pressure to the sides of her throat.

“ _James_ –”

Thereupon, he shushed her, wordlessly prompting the girl to ease into her orgasm and allow it to overwhelm her. She welcomed it in waves, and as every climax did, [Y/N] expected it to begin fading soon enough, thus deciding upon trying to stretch the experience out for herself for as long as she could manage. Thereupon, the young witch was forced to bite down on her lip since the hard thrusts James chanced spread tempting pain throughout her lower body, a pain that stung but satisfied all the same. The girl's orgasm had met its end shortly thereafter, her walls tightening and throbbing around James' cock nonetheless.

“Bloody fuck,” panted the Gryffindor, his words roughly translating to _I'm coming, right about now_. [Y/N] had learned to understand his rather exclusive sex language well enough, and, grinning through the haze of bliss-diluted agony, held onto him as tightly as she could manage, with the majority of her limbs having gone either semi-senseless or entirely numb. Guiding her trembling lips to align with one of his ears, she exhaled onto his auricle, hot breath tickling the tawny skin. As soon as she had done so, James detached his huge palm from the girl's frail, pulsating neck, clasping her hip with it once more. That provided more control over his thrusts, and he revelled in the glorious opportunity.

“Come in me,” the girl requested in a soft, almost innocent tone, and that sole, vulgar request was enough for James to spill all of himself into her just a few vigorous thrusts later.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he exclaimed after a smooth succession of groans, throwing his head backwards as though on command. A satiating wave of bliss washed over his head of shaggy, blowsed locks, and he delighted in one of the most powerful orgasms he'd experienced in a while. Though his thrusts diminished in speed and rigour, he managed to get himself through it quite all right, with mellow groans gradually fading into uneven panting. His heart raced at an impossible pace, wet trails of sweat glistening on his skin. In no time, he had lifted the girl's leg off of his shoulder with, seemingly, all the caution and care in the world, and allowed it to bend over the edge of the table.

With the aftertaste of both of their orgasms still lingering in form of a subtle vibration on their skin, James sloppily pulled out of [Y/N], tucking his limp cock back into his trousers and starting to work on the zipper. In the meantime, drops of excess cum dripped out of the girl's worn-out hole, staining the dingy, damp floor of the Dungeons classroom. Her legs dangled off the desk as though made of pudding, and for a minute, there was a ringing raging in her ears that prompted she wasn't fully grasping consciousness any longer. James picked up on the situation, and, seconds before she'd topple to the side, caught the girl in his bulky arms and perched her back up into an upright sitting position.

“Holy fuck, you all right?” he questioned, patting the surface next to her seat in search for his glasses, and, having stumbled upon them with his hand shortly after, sat them onto his nose. His eyebrows were furrowed, completing an adorable countenance of confusion as he stared at the young witch before him – trails of tears drying on her cheeks, eyes lightly hooded, and face more colourless than he'd ever experienced it before.

Nevertheless, the girl merely mewled, “Yeah.” Well, except for the sting in her cervix area and the fact her heart threatened to beat its way out of her throat at any given moment. Oh, and the drowsiness she failed to stave off no matter how hard she tried.

“Are you sure? Should we get you to the hospital wing?” proposed the Gryffindor, forehead lining with worry. After all, he was still holding onto her fragile, limp body with both arms so as not to have her faint and thus collapse straight onto the cauldron of a burgundy Merlin-knows-what.

In response, [Y/N] issued a weak laugh and replied, “Don't overestimate yourself, Mister Arrogance. I said I'm fine, there's no need. Besides, we still have some tidying up to accomplish.” As time went by, her cheeks seemed to fill with more and more saturation and her words with more and more wit. _Welcome back, [Y/N]._ James leered at the reemergence of his _very_ dear friend.

“Pity,” the grin remained engraved into his handsome face, relief washing over him as though a bucket of icy-cold water. “I'd love to have seen Madam Pomfrey's face.”

Not surprised at the sudden surge of smugness in both his voice and his posture in the slightest, the girl chortled in response, “Oh, I bet you would have.”

**Author's Note:**

> that's it – thank you so much for reading!! as always, feel free to follow and talk to me on my twitter @/nobleregulus :) have a wondrous day, my sweets!


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